Dude, Where's My Car?
by Always-Underrated
Summary: Wherein Parker learns that, while it's a very bad idea to steal Eliot's car, it's an even worse idea to put her life in danger by, say, breaking into the White House. WARNING: Will Contain Corporal Punishment/Spanking of Adults in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1: Sticks and Stones

_**A/N:** For those of you who haven't seen Leverage before, I'd suggest looking it up on Wiki. It is seriously an awesome tv show; watch it if only for Christian Kane, who was amazing in Angel as Lindsey.  
><em>_There are so few Leverage discipline fics, that I felt I must add at least one to the count. I've had Writer's Block for ages, so I hope this isn't too horrible or rushed. If you like it, be sure to review! This is also very AU and a bit OOC, so don't be too shocked if they act a bit different than in the show._

_Also, since I've never attempted to break into the White House, I can't claim to know anything accurate about its security. I just took what I've seen from some of the episodes and tried to integrate it in my fic. Please be kind._

**_Disclaimer: _**_I own nothing Leverage._

**_Spoilers:_**_ First episode of Season 1 till practically the Third season. Be warned._

**_Warning: Will contain** corporal punishment a.k.a. spanking of adults. Hit the back button if this isn't your thing.**_**

* * *

><p><strong><em>Dude, Where's My Car?<em>**

She hadn't… _meant _to do it, per se.

She'd meant to do _something_, sure, but not _this_. You'd have to have a death wish to _want_ to so much as touch Eliot Spencer's car, and she – well. It might seem like she had a death wish when it came to things like breaking into unbreakable security systems and jumping off incredibly high buildings, but not a death wish when it involved Eliot and his ability to kill you with his _pinky_.

"You… you… _how_ could…"

If his heavy breathing and spastic clenching and unclenching of fists was any indication, Parker gathered he probably wasn't speechless from _joy_.

Funny how true it was that the road to Hell is paved with good intentions.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Flash Back<strong>_**: Last Week**

"_There's some thing wrong with her!"_

_Something wrong._

_Something_ wrong.

Parker could almost feel the enamel of her teeth wearing down from how hard she was clenching her jaw, and made an effort to relax it.

Something wrong. With _her_.

When the team had first come together, she'd had her doubts. Before she'd known that Dubenich was the one to cheat them out of their money – _her_ three-hundred grand – she'd been prepared to kill them all on the spot. Well, she'd brought a gun, anyway, and she would have done it if they hadn't given her her money. Really.

But then Nate had figured everything out, and they'd taken down the bastard. And… eh. She hadn't needed the gun.

Since then they'd separated, gotten back together, separated again, gotten back together again…

They'd had their rough times, sure; which team doesn't? But she'd started to… actually _like_ them. Some of them more then others, but mostly she'd just…

Wanted to stay. And that had never happened before. She'd never before felt this feeling of… camaraderie. Family.

And she'd put away the gun and never even considered using it again.

…Until today, that is.

"_-something wrong with her. Something wrong with her. Something wrong-"_

* * *

><p>You could find family in the strangest of places.<p>

_Nate_: while he had his problems, he was probably the closest thing to a father she had. He kept her in check when she was about to cross a line, supplied a moral compass where her upbringing had never allowed for one, and always made sure they, _she_, got through whatever game they were running alive.

_Sophie_: when Sophie had pulled a con on them, her own _team_, that had hurt, a little bit. But Sophie was… sort of like the big sister slash aunt, who was always there to lend an ear, whisper advice on fashion or how to pull off a job, and was the mostly-dependable female presence that had also been lacking in her life. So she'd forgiven her easily enough, and come to see her as part of the family again.

_Hardison_: …well. He wasn't a brother by any stretch of the imagination, despite his attentiveness to detail, his utter dependability, intelligence, attractiveness, talent, attractiveness…

She hadn't been looking for a family, but she'd found one in the most unlikely of places.

…And then… there was _Eliot._

* * *

><p><em>The nice thing about working above a bar<em>, Parker thought absently to herself as she headed towards the door, _Is that… you're working above a bar._

Hardison opened his mouth – maybe to ask a her opinion on the job, maybe to ask about the closed look that was doubtless on her face – but she brushed past him, intent on reaching her goal and slamming down on the emotions trying to reach the surface.

_Eliot_: the big, hulking, bullying, unintelligent hick of a brother-ish figure. An imbecile who couldn't crack a safe if you gave him the combination, a dimwit who wouldn't know sensitivity if it slammed him in the face.

Eliot, the guy who never wasted a second in reminding her she was Off. _Wrong_.

* * *

><p>"<em>That's twenty pounds of crazy in a five pound bag."<em>

"_There's something _wrong_ with her!"_

"_**There's something wrong with you, kid! You hear me? Hey! Look at me when I'm talking to you!"**_

* * *

><p>A while had passed before she realized someone was trying to get her attention. It was even longer before she recognized that person as Hardison, and realized that the glass in her hand was empty, having been filled and re-emptied a number of times.<p>

"Hey, hey! Parker? Parker, you with me girl?"

His worried, if slightly blurred, face appeared in her line of vision, and she gave him a (hopefully) winning smile.

"Alec! What're you… doin' here?" _Too many thoughts, too many thoughts. More alcohol!_

"I-wait, since when am I Alec? I… nevermind. I just wanted to ask if you were okay."

Parker widened her smile even further, not noticing his eyes narrow at the unnaturally bright grin. "Why certainly, everythin's-everythings jus' fine. Whydaya ask?"

"Uh… you just… you didn't look so hot upstairs, you know, so I thought maybe I should check on you…" He let the sentence trail off, and she wasn't so drunk that she didn't notice the way he was scrutinizing her.

Wanting to get back to her dreary thoughts despite his rather welcoming presence, she decided to pull a Sophie.

Putting her arm around his waist, she pressed her chest against him and said as sweetly as she could manage, "You're right, Hardi-Hardissson, I wasn' feelin' too hot. So I decided ta' hav'a drink to cool down."

Hardison aimed a rather wide-eyed glance at the-uh, arm around his middle, and said in a slightly unsettled voice, "Ah, ah, I don't think-Parker, I don't think it works like that. You know, maybe you've had enough."

Rolling her eyes discreetly, she pushed herself against him further and said emphatically, "M'good, actually, and I's fine. Thanks for… comin'g to check on me. Really, m'fine now."

"Uh, okay, if you're… if you're sure," he mumbled distractedly, eyes still fixed on her… arm.

Giving him a toothy grin, she gave him a quick squeeze and punched him in the arm a bit harder than she'd intended. "Thanks Hardison, that wass'really sweet of you."

Not seeming to notice the punch and still looking distracted, he and mumbled a quick, "Uh, sure," before fleeing out the front door.

"Sophie wass' right; men're so _easy_," she mumbled to herself around another full glass.

_But not all of them._

As the bells on the front door jingled gently, Parker's thoughts drifted back to that dark, angry place she always tried to avoid.

She wasn't Wrong. She wasn't _Crazy_. So she was a little messed up, everyone was a little messed up; that didn't make her _strange_, or _weird,_ or _wrong, _or _crazy. _Just because the _famous_ 'Eliot Spencer' thought she was weird didn't make her abnormal.

"Like he knows. He'ss one to talk 'bout weird, goin' 'round killin people and-and-not having _talent_."

And for all she knew, maybe it wasn't even just him. Maybe Nate, maybe Sophie, maybe _Alec_ thought so too.

And if they all thought that, then… then… that didn't make her… Wrong, did it?

"No," she hissed fiercely. _"No_."

She would show them. She would prove there was _NOTHING WRONG _with Parker, Security Circum, Infiltration and Alter, Thief extraordinaire.

And her eyes, watering? Allergies. That tightness, the pain-like feeling in her chest? Probably the alcohol. No, this wasn't getting to her. She was just… She just needed to prove her usefulness.

Yes. That was it. Because if she couldn't prove it to them, she couldn't prove it to herself. And then where would she be?

An idea entered her head – a dangerous idea, a stupid idea, an idea that she would never have considered if she were anywhere near sober or thinking straight. And idea that, while possibly suicidal and/or liable to land her in jail for the rest of her life, would prove to the rest of the team that she wasn't insane, unstable, or a liability.

A welcome sense of determination flowing through her, Parker smiled, downed the rest of her shot, and went off to finalize her plans.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Jump: <em>Twenty-Two Hours Ago**

"_Are you-are you insane, girl? Do you have any idea how crazy this is?"_

Two words, two words that were the reason behind this whole escapade. Fighting down a headache and the impulse to flinch at his choice of words, Parker smiled tightly at the receptionist and accepted her guest badge.

She waited until she was out of range of any eavesdroppers before hissing, "Not a good time, Hardison. What can you tell me about security?"

"_Secu-girl, you do realize you are breaking into the WHITE HOUSE, don't you? I mean, do you-you're going to be caught! You could… _arrested_, Parker, you will get _a-rres-ted!"

Fighting down her own misgivings, she heaved a bereaved sigh and spoke to the ceiling, "If you're not going to be helpful, I'm just going to take my ear piece out. I asked you to help because I know you're the only one who could help me pull this off, and I really need to do this. _Please_, Hardison?"

She heard him sigh – a typical Hardison sigh indicating reluctant agreement – and aimed her triumphant smile at a nearby guard, who jerked back in surprise.

"_All right. But the moment I think it's going south, I'm telling the gang, you hear me?"_

"I hear you," she murmured cheerfully. "Now tell me about the damn security."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Present:<strong>_

_From there, things had gone… well. _South_._

* * *

><p><strong>Twenty Hours Ago:<strong>

"_Parker, Parker, come in! You need to get out NOW!"_

She spun around a corner and waited till the swarm of guards ran past her before panting out, "What… do you… think I'm… _doing,_ Hardison?"

Closing her eyes and blocking out the wailing of the sirens, she mapped out possible alternative escape routes in her head in case Plan A and B failed. The elevator shaft escape was a classic, and one of her favourites, but getting to the elevator, down the shaft and past security to the front doors was going to leave her wide open. Either way she wasn't going to get out of this without being recognized, but at the moment, she was more worried about being _shot_. She'd have to figure out some way of hiding her identity later.

_Think, think,_ she thought fiercely, sifting rapidly through her thoughts for her mental map of the front entrance, searching desperately for a safe exit strategy.

"_Look, Nate knows we're here, and the team's on their way. I'm trying my best to circumvent the security system and shut off the alarms and cameras, but the firewall's coming back on quick. Stick to the plan, and by the time you get to the State Floor, Eliot should be here. He's burning asphalt and probably breaking about fifteen state laws to do it, and he wanted me to tell you he's going to kick your ass into the next century for taking his car. Thanks for not telling me about that, by the way, he nearly chewed _my_ ass out-"_

_Car. Eliot's _car_._

"That's it!" she whispered. "Hardison, I have an idea. Cover me until I reach the elevators, then get the hell out. I need you to leave something in Eliot's car for me…"

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **Like it so far? Keep your fingers crossed that my Muse doesn't die out on me!_


	2. Chapter 2: The Haters Hate

_A/N: A couple of things in my RL, including losing everything on my hard-drive, have kept me from updating this. I'm not actually that happy with this chapter, but it's not going to get any better the more I stare at it. It's rather short, and the plot doesn't go anywhere, but maybe it'll help kick-start my Muse again. Try not to be haters, even if it sucks. _

_Disclaimer: I own everything. _

_**WARNING: See chapter one.**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Don't Let the Haters Hate<strong>_

_**Present:**_

"You… I…"

Parker stared at the wall, the floor, the wonderful rendition of a decrepit future Nate – anything to avoid having to look Eliot in the face. Because while she refused to feel guilty about this, she could practically _feel_ his glare burning a hole into her favourite sweater.

"Parker, what the Hell were you…"

He trailed off again, nostrils flaring, and abruptly stood up and began pacing. His entire body was tense, his stride clipped and angry, and Parker looked down at her hands and tried desperately not to feel like a naughty five year old.

"Do you have any idea how scared we were? How scared _I _was? How do you think I felt when I pulled in front of the White House, and saw _my car_, with you sitting in the front seat, go up in flames?"

* * *

><p><em><strong>Flash Back: <strong>_**Five Days Ago**

"_There's something wrong with you!"_

He'd said it before. Hell, they'd _all _said it so many times he'd started to lose count. But something was different this time.

Normally Parker would laugh it off or flash one of her creepy little smiles when people – _he_ – made comments like that, but this time… Maybe it was his imagination, but he could have sworn he saw hurt in her eyes before she closed off and stormed out of the meeting in the middle of Hardison's narrative.

And now Sophie was raising her eyebrows at him, and Nate was giving him one of those _looks _of his.

"What?" Eliot asked defensively. "There is!"

Sophie just shook her head and walked off, while Nate continued to stare doggedly. Looking worried, Hardison spared the hitter a dark look as well before jogging out of the room, calling after Parker, "Baby girl!"

Nate was still looking at him, and, beginning to feel edgy and a bit guilty against his will, he muttered an even more defensive, "_What_, Nate?"

Not looking away, the un-official leader/boss/sort-of-father-figure to the team pulled out a chair in front of him and sat down. Quietly but with a gravity Eliot couldn't ignore, Nate said, "I've been meaning to speak to you about that: the things you say to Parker."

"Yeah? What about them?" This defensive feeling really wasn't going away, and it was kind of getting annoying.

Shooting him a reproachful look, Nate linked his fingers loosely together and leaned his elbows on the table, saying: "Eliot, I get that you've probably gotten used to not being around people, you're accustomed to working alone and… and that you haven't been a part of a team in a long time. I get that, I do. But you have to _think_ before you say things sometimes; particularly towards people who are more… inclined towards… sensitivity."

Honestly perplexed and getting frustrated, Eliot grunted, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"More specifically," Nate continued, ignoring him, "You need to watch what you say around Parker. She's a bit… odd, I know that, but you can't keep telling her she's weird, or that there's something wrong with her. People like you and me, comments like that are like water off a ducks back. But people like Parker, and even Sophie? They take it personally, even if they don't like showing it. And it hurts them. A lot."

Giving him a particularly intense look, Nate finished softly, "Don't tell me you missed that look on her face when she was leaving the room today."

A feeling of shame washed over him as Eliot acknowledged that, yes, he _had_ caught the look.

Nate obviously realized this too, because he nodded, and said just as softly, "I trust you to fix this, Eliot; because if I find out that you haven't, or if we have to have this conversation again, I'm going to be doing a lot more than talking."

And while he might be comfortable in the knowledge that he could put an average human out of commission in under ten seconds, and though he was able to keep his face mostly impassive, Eliot still felt a shiver of apprehension run down his spine as he nodded.

"Good. Then I'll see you when we our next job turns up."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Present:<strong>_

As he paced the floor in front of an unnaturally subdued Parker, Eliot considered with a regretful grimace how all of this might have been avoided if he'd just gone looking for Parker immediately and apologized.

But he hadn't gone immediately. In fact, he'd still been building up the courage to talk to her when the call came.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Flash Back: <strong>_**Yesterday**

Eliot slammed the door so hard it rattled in its frames, but Nate was making enough noise of his own that it barely registered with anyone in the room.

"You _what_?" Nate was shouting, and he looked and sounded so pissed that Eliot would have been surprised if he wasn't hadn't been feeling exactly the same way.

"Just what I was going to ask," he said. He managed to say it calmly, more calmly than he'd thought he could manage under the circumstances, but it still surprised Sophie and Nate enough that they jumped slightly.

Sophie took a deep breath and headed towards him, asking, "Eliot, have you-"

"Yeah, I heard." Ah, there was the anger. He closed his right fist into a white-knuckled grip as he imagined all the ways he was going to kick Parker's ass for doing something so monumentally stupid.

"The White House? She's breaking into the _White House_ and-and you _let her_?" Nate, having overcome his surprise, continued shouting.

"Wait, is that Hardison? Where's Parker?" Eliot cut in again incredulously. His eyebrows furrowing, he moved within eye-sight of the large screen, where only Hardison was in view. As he became visible to the screen's built in camera, Eliot thought he could see Hardison visibly shrink.

_Good_, he thought darkly. _If he's done what I think he has, he _should _be afraid._

"Yeah, apparently _someone-_" Hardison flinched at the emphasis put on 'someone', "-thought it would be a good idea to _help _her, without telling any of us!"

Eliot exchanged a pissed look with Nate as Sophie interjected, "Nevermind that, I just want to know what could have possessed Parker to do this! After what happened with the Steranko system, she knows better! And you, Hardison, should have known better than to let her!"

After a moment wherein they all glared at Hardison, and Hardison did his best to look anywhere but at them, Nate sighed and ran a hand over his face.

"No, I know what brought this on. She's trying to prove something to herself – or, no. More likely, she's trying to prove something to us. Eliot, I think this has something to do with what you said to her on Friday."

Eyes widening, Sophie turned to Nate in a low voice that Eliot could barely make and said, "You're right, it makes sense. She was hurt by what Eliot said, and now she's 'acting out' to prove to us or herself that the accusations have no basis."

Not liking how focus was turning back towards him, Eliot interjected roughly, "You're talking about her like she's a child."

For some reason, Hardison was glaring at _him_ now, so the hitter upped the level of his own glare a notch until the hacker backed down.

"Well, in some ways - at least mentally - I think she still is," Sophie replied. "She's obviously never had a proper childhood, a family, and it shows in the way she interacts with us. Anyone can see she looks to Nate as a father-figure, and you, Eliot, as a sort of brother. Although me, I couldn't say for sure, and Hardison… well," she finished with a small smile. "In any case, I believe she's just acting out. Similar to how a child would respond under similar circumstances."

While Hardison blushed and stammered out excuses, Eliot turned to Nate and said, "So, what's the plan?"

This whole business with Parker's feelings was making him feel all guilty and confused again, so Eliot did his best to push it out of his mind and concentrate on getting her out. Again.

_We are _definitely _going to have a talk when you get back, _he thought grimly.

Nate sighed again. "The White House… dammit. Well, I guess we're just gonna have to plan as we go and hope for the best."

"Yeah, because that always works out so well," Eliot snorted sarcastically.

Suddenly, a loud blaring noise began issuing through the speakers. Jerking in surprise, Hardison began running his fingers crazily over the keyboard, the white's of his eyes vividly bright against the darkness of his surroundings.

"Hardison… Hey, Hardison!" Eliot shouted. "What's going on?"

"Uh, someone just triggered the alarm system," the hacker stammered out, fingers continuing their crazy dance. "The firewall's coming up FAST. She needs to get out of there, now. Excuse me."

Hardison cut the connection without any further explanation, and Eliot banged his fist on the counter in frustration.

"Nathan…"

Nate nodded decisively and said, "Yeah, I know. Com-mon guys; we need to go figure out how to steal ourselves the White House..."

Sophie followed after Nate as he headed towards the door, pausing momentarily to put a hand on Eliot's arm. "Don't worry, Eliot; we'll get her. Nothing bad's going to happen to her."

"It'd better not," Eliot muttered after her back, "Or I'm going to kill the girl myself."

* * *

><p>It was only once they were heading towards their vehicles that Eliot finally noticed.<p>

He was putting in his earpiece as he walked, going over a mental risk-assessment of the situation, when he halted mid-step in his tracks as it occurred to him what was wrong with the picture in front of him.

"Nate…" Eliot whispered before he started yelling loudly enough to wake the cows, "WHERE THE HELL IS MY CAR?"

Both Nate and Sophie also stopped in their tracks, and together they all stared at the blank emty parking space where Eliot's car used to be.

It was a few seconds before Eliot said, in a hushed, dangerous whisper:

"She _didn't_."

* * *

><p><em>AN: Like I said, short. But hopefully at least a little sweet? :D  
>And I would bet my left foot that you, my reader, totally missed my awesome new disclaimer. Uhuh, that's right, go check it out again, and maybe that'll teach you to read my precious author's notes. OH SNAP!<em>


	3. Chapter 3: Rhyme or Reason

_A/N: I had really hoped to have progressed more with the plot by now, but this chapter wasn't going to get any better or longer no matter how long I let it sit on my desktop. I should have posted this ages ago. Sorry, as always, for the lack of consistent updates. Ah, the curse of being a perfectionist!_

_A big thanks to **MissGuenever** for her amazing help, and because I would never have gotten this far without her. First time I've ever had a beta, I think. Or one I've actually listened to and kept for so long, anyway. Go read her shit. She's awesome._

_Thanks to everyone who has (hopefully) not given up on this fic. _

_Disclaimer: __Leverage is mine sayeth the Lord. Wait._

_**WARNINGS:** **Mentions of corporal punishment/spanking of an adult in this chapter. Skip this chapter if that's not your thing.**  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong><em>A Lack of Rhyme or Reason<em>**

**_Twenty Hours Ago:_**

She could feel the panic starting to set in.

Parker pushed herself a little further into the corner of the elevator shaft she'd managed to wedge herself into, and watched as a drop of sweat dripped down her nose to fall down, down, down...

As soon as the security protocols had been initiated, the elevators had shut down - not normally a problem, particularly with Hardison at her back to circumvent those procedures. So when the latest horde of security personal had turned down the opposite corridor, she'd quickly pushed open the elevator doors and slipped inside, trusting Hardison to get the elevators to where they needed to be.

Unfortunately, it seemed the information she'd received from her contact, John Smith, was not only outdated, but also faulty and entirely useless! So far Hardison - if the frantic buzzing in her ear was anything to go by - had been unable to get the elevators working again. And even if he somehow managed _that_, there'd be no way for him to hide the fact that they were working again, and she'd have security on her ass within seconds.

She was going to kill Mr. Smith. She knew that wasn't his real name, of course, but with Hardison's help she should be able to dig him out of whatever hideyhole he'd stashed himself in.

Every elevator had been sent to the ground floor; not just _this_ elevator, but every elevator in the damn building. The White House, unlike most office buildings, didn't have banks of elevators. They were mostly single elevators buried in the depths of the building. This left her with her current predicament: trying to figure out how to get down.

_The problem_ _with simply waltzing through the door instead of breaking in_, the thief thought irritably, _is not being able to fit a convertible harness under your clothes. _

She had a couple of specialized rigs that would fit under most clothes, but she would never have been able to get past security if she'd worn one of them.

There was one story above her, four stories below, and an unknown number of basements and sub-basements; the roof was a no-go, and jumping down the shaft and breaking possibly all her limbs was equally not possible. Which left her wedged in the corner of the shaft with nothing but a semi-hysterical Hardison and serious regrets about her less-than-thought-out decision.

What had she been thinking? Breaking into the White House? Sure she'd been pissed, but God, she was supposed to be smarter than this. She was Parker, for Christ's sake. Parker!

_You wanted to show them_, her mind unhelpfully supplied for her. _You wanted to show them you weren't crazy. That you were capable, normal. Now look where that's left you. _

Mentally flinching at the truth behind this, Parker scrunched up her nose and tried to stifle that train of thought.

_Why couldn't she have opted for attempted normality and taken that damn cooking class Peggy was teaching? _Again, her brain supplied: _Because you were afraid it would suck as much as book club. _Although the food at book club did rock. And the wine was nice too!

Unhindered by the little tangent, Parker's mind continued:

_There were so many other ways you could have gone about showing them. You could have, say, stolen something, which is your forte; or better yet, you could have, oh I dunno - TOLD them, maybe? Instead you went and threw a little tantrum, and now you're forty-feet above the bottom of an elevator shaft, on the verge of a debilitating panic-attack, and liable to end up getting arrested and sent to Guantanamo Bay. What a way to show them, Parker. Great job! The team should be able to break you out of the most secure prison in the country much easier than here_.

Tantrum? From her own mind, that was just too much. Angrily shoving the voice in her head back into the shadows, Parker set her concentration back on trying to get down, not panicking, and certainly NOT thinking about how the rest of the team was going to react when they found out...

_Damnit!_

As if in a last ditch effort before she managed to block her thoughts out completely, her mind gently whispered: _He's not HIM, Parker. You'd do well to remember that._

And then it was gone, and Parker was left to inch her way slowly - ever so slowly - down forty-feet of concrete wall.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Nineteen Hours Ago:<em>**

Undeterred by the loud screeching of breaks and the sound of honking horns from angry drivers, Eliot drove through a red light, breaking another in a long line of traffic laws.

He'd gotten a lollipop for the top of the car from Hardison, which went along with his police ID card; unfortunately that was in Parker's car, so he was wagging his ass out in the breeze, hoping there were no real cops around.

One of the first rules of the trade was to always be discreet: you could leave your trademark, make it obvious it was you, but you never did anything to draw undue attention from the local law enforcement (by, say, driving through numerous red lights, speeding, and a bit of general law-breaking for good luck).

Of course, there were exceptions to every rule.

Honking his own horn at an idiot who just wasn't going fast enough, Eliot drove to match the rate of his thoughts.

There were things you just didn't _do_. One, you don't take on a job which you know - and anyone with an ounce of intelligence knows - can't be pulled off. Two, you don't put yourself in potentially mortal danger _for_ a job, not unless it's a life-or-death situation anyway. Three, you don't take on a potentially suicidal undertaking just to prove a point. There were many other things on the list of no-nos when it came to their line of work, but as far as the hitter was concerned, those three were the most important.

And Parker had just broken all of them in one, ill-thought-out, idiotic swoop. Over hurt feelings, no less.

Realizing his fists were white from how hard he was clenching the steering wheel and that the ache in his head was from grinding teeth and not merely a headache, Eliot inhaled deeply and tried to consciously relax his tense muscles one group at a time.

This was something he'd learned in one of the many places he'd been over the years; during that time, he'd studied under some amazing teachers and learned a lot of things. Unfortunately, many of those things were going out the window at the moment! He was going to kill her, revive her, and kill her again.

Christ,

he thought irritably, _this is like picking up your sister from the police station! _Except that he needed to figure out how to get her out without anyone even knowing she'd been there.

Yep. Pretty much like picking up your lil' sis from the cops, only about a million times harder. He was _really _going to kick her ass!

So maybe, he'd been thoughtless; maybe, he should have kept his silence; and _maybe, _he should have apologized. But what Parker had just gone and done? No excuse. None!

So why was he feeling so terrible?

In an effort not to answer that unspoken question, he pressed his foot harder against the pedal and sped onward.

Worry was beginning to creep in around the edges of his anger, and it was making it harder to hold onto his righteous fury. People could do stupid things when they were hurt or angry; hell, he knew better than most. Though he could really only take a blind stab at what Parker was feeling, Eliot knew that no one in a rational state of mind would be doing something so idiotic, so it wasn't that hard to imagine. He could only hope that having Hardison on comms would help keep her from doing anything too stupid or dangerous.

Though considering Hardison had been enough of an imbecile to let her go in the first place... AND to not tell them about it until it was too late to be of much good...

_Oh yeah, _Eliot thought grimly. Y_ou are _so _next on my shit list. _

Knowing thoughts of necessary ass-kickings were going to have to wait, the hitter pushed that and his worry to the back of his mind and concentrated on more pressing matters: Getting Parker out alive and undetected. Well, mostly undetected, anyway

Hardison obviously still hadn't checked in, as Nate and Sophie were supposed to contact him the moment the hacker did. That meant they were essentially blind; something that would make getting her out difficult, but not impossible. He'd been in worse situations... Probably.

However, if the blaring of sirens over the phone call they'd arranged had been any indication, Parker's cover, whatever it had been (more information they were missing, and another thing Eliot was adding to the long tally of things needing to be addressed), had obviously been blown.

This would... Well. Complicate things.

If you ignored the fact that he would be going in blind (with only Nate, Sophie and an absent Hardison to cover his back over comms and video), short of dressing up as a Secret Service agent and pretending he was the one supposed to interrogate/arrest/transport Parker, there weren't many available options. He could blow up a nearby building as a distraction, break his way in, grab Parker and get out; but that plan could go wrong in so many ways it was barely worth mentioning. Maybe that sort of thing had worked for him in the past, but this time he had someone else to worry about: _Parker_.

As it stood, the possibility of getting out undetected seemed close to non-existent. He was really going to have to kill the little thief for this.

Eliot avoided an area ripe with traffic cameras with practiced ease, subconsciously flexing his fingers as his thoughts drifted to what he was going to do to Parker once he got his hands on her. At this rate, he was going to have to repaint the truck and get a new steering wheel when this was over. An irritated growl escaped from deep in his throat.

A man in an often violent occupation, Eliot had always sworn to never lay a hand on anyone he cared about in anger. His training and rather intense reflexes could prove fatal for his unintended victim, and he knew he'd never be able to live with himself if that happened.

And yet...

For only the second time in his life, Eliot was considered breaking one of his carefully kept rules. Granted, the first one had been when he was considering breaking the neck of his cunt of a future-mother-in-law, but that was different. This... _This_ was someone he actually cared about, not someone he cared about by proxy.

He'd made those rules for a reason, but this time... There _had_ to be exceptions to every rule, right?

Eliot, happily fantasizing about snapping Parker's delicate little neck, was brought short when his mind supplied him with a different, completely (or at least, apparently) unrelated thought:

_How would Glenn have punished you for doing something like this, hmmm?_

And on the heels of that startling thought came a vivid, unpleasant memory he hadn't thought about in years: the Hounds of Baskerville Job (as Glenn liked to jokingly call it).

God, when had that been? Fifteen years ago? Yeah, about that long.

* * *

><p><em>With an almost-silent click, the lock on the door opened, and twenty-three year old Eliot punched in the code to the alarm before soundlessly slipping through the open door, careful not to make any noise.<em>

_The guards were patrolling the opposite side of the mansion, the guard dogs were snoozing off a heavy sedative, and the security cameras had been turned off. That gave him twenty minutes - give or take five - to get in, get the intended merchandise, and get out without being detected. _

_Piece of cake. _

_Glenn Davis - his mentor, who had rescued him and taught him everything he knew -hadn't thought so, going so far as to expressly forbid the young retrieval specialist from doing the job. He'd said that Eliot wasn't ready for such a high-profile target, that it was a two-man job, that he was still too green, etc, etc._

_Even just thinking back to the conversation had Eliot resisting rolling his eyes in annoyance. He wasn't a naive kid anymore, eager to absorb every bit of experience his mentor had to offer; he'd come a long way from the disillusioned, angry ex-soldier who would have gotten himself into a lot of bad shit if not for Glenn. He was Goddamn man now, a freakin' retrieval specialist, and telling him he wasn't ready for such a (so far) simple retrieval job? _

_It was fucking insulting, and Eliot was going to make Glenn eat his words just as soon as he got the damn blueprints. _

_Keeping the back door open a sliver to stop the alarm from re-activating, Eliot took a quick, habitual glance around the dark, silent drawing room before taking one step further inside. _

_That was as far as he got before a hand clamped over his mouth and someone grabbed him in a choke hold._

_There was a bit of a struggle; despite his efforts, Eliot's attacker successfully managed to keep him from making any noise. After another brief moment of useless struggling on his part, his unknown assailant whispered harshly, "Eliot, stop."_

_Eliot didn't stop struggling, but he did pause for a split second. He knew that voice. He knew that voice well._

_"Eliot, stop struggling; don't make this any harder on yourself." The voice was directly beside his ear, an almost silent hiss that would be undetectable to anyone not standing directly next to them._

_This time he was certain who the owner of the voice was, and he immediately stilled, knowing he was safe, and waited to be released._

_He wasn't. Instead, Glenn continued talking:_

_"Fifteen feet from where we're standing, there's a guard with a gun in his hand, finger already on the trigger. Ten feet to your left and five feet up is a motion-detector, which - should you have continued towards your intended goal - would have been set off, leading to the guard shooting and possibly killing you. If you'd somehow managed to avoid that and make it to the stairs, you would have had to circumvent four cameras, two heat-sensors, three motion-detectors and two more guards. And should you have, by some fucking__miracle, managed to avoid all of that, there would still be the voice-activated lock on the five-inch steel door leading to the study, which you would have had to dismantle while trying not to alert the guard who was hired to stop just such an intrusion."_

_Glenn paused, giving Eliot a moment to absorb the information, before he continued softly, "This, Eliot, is why I didn't want you to take on this job by yourself. Come now, we must leave. Do everything I tell you to, and if you so much as _think_ of arguing or going against what I say..."_

_Leaving the threat to Eliot's overactive imagination, he swiftly and silently took them through a series of doors Eliot was chagrined to realize he didn't recognize, eventually leading them to a window in a room at the back of the house. Glenn silent slid it open, motioned Eliot through, followed behind, and closed it just as silently._

_The drive back to Glenn's home was tense and silent. His mentor's anger was palpable, and it was everything Eliot could do not to start blurting out apologies. Granted, it wasn't like he would actually mean them. Sure, it had seemed close to impossible, but he wasn't an idiot; he would have noticed the sensors eventually, possibly before setting them off, and if not, he at least would have taken out the guards before they had a chance to do anything but look surprised. They drove past where Eliot had left his truck, and after a quick look at Glenn, Eliot stayed silent. He'd get it tomorrow._

_Still, right now he would give anything to get that tight look off of Glenn's face, because it was really starting to unnerve him. He'd never messed up this badly before, and not knowing what was going to happen or what Glenn was going to do was making his palms sweat and his heart beat like a frantic metronome. _

_In the thirty minutes it took to make it back to Glenn's, Eliot's mind went through just as many scenarios of how the night was going to end. Some of the more ridiculous ones were discarded, and by the time they pulled up in front of the house, his mind had decided on the most likely scenario - one where Glenn kicked him out and never spoke to him again._

* * *

><p>Careening around a corner, getting closer and closer to Parker, Eliot - even though it had been years - still felt a shiver of nerves as he recalled the stern, Drill Sergeant expression Glenn wore at the time; Glenn had been a Drill Sergeant for a while, sure, but it was the first time he'd turned it on his pupil.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Not one to dwell on feelings of hurt and loss, Eliot instead settled on anger. Which was probably why, when they'd stepped into the living room and Glenn just stared at him without saying anything, Eliot decided to speak first.<em>

_And, unfortunately for him, rather unwisely._

_"Look, I'm sorry, okay? I guess I should have waited till we could do it together, but I really thought I could do it! And if that idiot contact of mine hadn't given me the wrong information, I might have, too!"_

_Although aware he really wasn't helping his case, Eliot couldn't help the defensive, heated tone coloring his words and voice. This really isn't my fault, he told himself firmly, shoving down his feelings. Glenn was just being a hard-ass, and nothing bad had happened anyway. _

_And besides, the silence was really getting to him. Particularly since Glenn just kept _staring_ at him._

_Finally, out of sheer desperation for Glenn to say or do something, Eliot blurted, "God, it's not like anything bad happened anyway! Do you have to be such an hard-ass about this?"_

_Oh fuck! Had he said that out loud?_

_Glenn's whole demeanor immediately changed; and Eliot only had a split-second to regret his choice of words and flinch back before a hand shot forward and caught his chin in a vice like grip. _

_The chilling, steely eyes of his mentor drilled into him as he said in a sharp, no-nonsense voice: "That will be enough from you, kid. Since you obviously haven't grasped just how disastrous tonight could have proved to be, it looks like I'm going to have to resort to other methods. I only hope this lesson doesn't need to be repeated. Ever."_

_Again, Eliot had about half a second to process this new information before he was unexpectedly jerked up, then just as swiftly jerked back down. _

_This was how Eliot found himself face-down on his mentor's lap; his face an uncomfortable few inches above the carpet; his pants and underwear dangling precariously below his knees; and his mind, shocked into silence at this completely unexpected turn of events. _

_Distantly, he heard Glenn speaking above his head:_

_"I view you as a son, Eliot; the son I never had, and probably will never have. That said, you're also my student, and I am your teacher. What you did today was foolish and beyond reckless. You could have been injured, arrested, or even killed. What little reputation you have managed to build would've been gone in a flash.__As your mentor, I find this unacceptable; as the man who's come to see you as a son,__this is something I cannot, and will not, tolerate. So pay close attention to this lesson I am about to impart upon you, because if I have to repeat it again, things are going to become seriously unpleasant."_

_Towards the end of Glenn's lecture, Eliot's mind had started__moving again. Of course, once it hit upon what, exactly, his mentor planned on doing to him, it came right back to a halt._

_Was he... going to spank him? Like a bratty, naughty little child? He hadn't been spanked by anyone in years, and Glenn just expected him to sit there and take it? _

_Hell no!_

_...Well, Eliot thought 'hell no', anyway, but what really came out was, "Fuck that!"_

_And that was when he really began struggling._

_This went on for a few minutes, as Glenn was kind enough to let him struggle to get away until he tired himself out. His mentor (a deceptively small, unassuming ex-Green Beret__turned apparent part-time professor) was built like a bull; at only five-foot eight, he still weighed a good 180 pounds of pure muscle. Trying to fight him was like trying to break out of a steal cage._

_As he gasped for breath over his mentor's knees, humiliation and the resounding knowledge that he was going nowhere beginning to sink in, Glenn spoke once more, much more softly this time._

_"You can fight me all you want, but the only thing it's going to get you is more time over my knee - and trust me, Eliot; this is going to be bad enough as it is. Don't do anything to make it worse. I would go on about how this is going to hurt me more than it hurts you... but quite frankly, it isn't going to; and I'm just furious enough at you not to care."_

_That said, the first of many, many swats came slamming down on his exposed backside._

_The first swat took his breath away, his only thought being "_That fucking stung!" _The second swat crashed down and almost produced a surprised intake of breath, one which Eliot managed to surpress just in time for the third to catch him unawares. _

_The sheer sting was appalling, and not something Eliot could remember associating with such a childish punishment. As the swats continued piling up, he tried his best to contain his reflexive flinches and grunts, but wasn't successful. The only thing that kept him from swearing at the top of his lungs was the knowledge that it wouldn't do him any good; plus, he didn't want to risk the chance of anyone overhearing and possibly figuring out what was happening, unlikely as the possibility was. Glenn's house was in a pretty remote area, but you never knew. _

_Glenn had, at some point, apparently learned how to spank efficiently, because the way his hand managed to land in places that Eliot hadn't even been aware were sensitive was bringing him back to past thrashings he'd received at the hands of his parents. __And he realized none of them had been over something so serious. _

_The swats continued to build in intensity as the spanking continued, the initial sting fading to a deep, aching burn that h__e__ightened and spread with each swat. By this point Glenn was overlappi swats and there was no part of his ass that didn't feel like it was on fire. Just as Eliot was beginning to wonder if he could continue staying silent, swars began to land on his hitherto untouched upper thighs. Up until then, both Eliot and Glenn had statyed relatively-silent, with only the occasional harsh intake of breath or grunt from Eliot breaking the rhythm of smacking noises. Now Eliot's attempt to hold his breath resulted in a hitched groan that bled into a pained gasp as a suden flurry of swats resulted in an horrible burn. _

_The lack of a lecture kept Eliot from concentrating on anything but the steadily growing burn, and soon he was letting out pained gasps regularly, involuntarily shifting and kicking his legs._

_One kick in particular lead to a swat on his thigh, hard enough Eliot almost choked, tears welling up in his eyes._

_"Do that again, Eliot, and I'll start using more than my hand." _

_Vividly recalling the many unpleasant whuppings he'd taken from his daddy' belt, Eliot forced himself to still, managing to only flinch when the swats landed in a particularly sore spot._

_Right about the time Eliot was wondering how much longer he could hold himself together, Glenn began speaking again:_

_"I never thought I'd have to do this - never even considered it. Eliot, but you forced my hand. What you did tonight was foolish, beyond__-reckless, and could have gotten you killed. Perhaps you were trying to prove yourself to me, perhaps you honestly thought you could; but that doesn't change the fact that you know better. That I taught you better. And most importantly, that I ordered you not to. I have to say that I'm disappointed Eliot; I expected better from you."_

_That hurt in a way that the spanking alone couldn't manage; and __it was__ this __that __broke the dam and Eliot started crying, the first of many tears hitting the floor._

* * *

><p>Eliot was brought abruptly back to the present by the obnoxious honking of angry drivers. Realizing he'd stopped in front of a light that had been green for a while now, he hurriedly sped forward.<p>

The spanking hadn't ended there; he'd kept going until Eliot was a blubbering mess over his lap. When Glenn had finally stopped, Eliot had been regretful, tearful, and had a sore ass that hurt for days. It was a lesson that truly worked; Eliot had never disobeyed his mentor so blatantly again. There had been one or two minor reminders over the years that followed, but nothing as harsh, and certainly nothing that had stuck with him so strongly.

The vividness of the memory, plus the content of it, left Eliot shaking in a way he hadn't in years. Squeezing the steering wheel tighter in an attempt to stop the shaking, he could only stare blankly ahead.

What in God's name had made him remember _that_? He'd done everything he could to forget the damn incident. Surely he hadn't...

No. No way.

The surprise almost made him miss his turn, and he had to do a U-turn to make up for it.

Had he _really _just considered doing... _that,_ to Parker of all people?


End file.
